Hypocrisy poem: The Sins of Sinnin’ , the Bishop and the Queen

Hypocrisy poem: The Sins of Sinnin’ , the Bishop and the Queen
Jenean C Gilstrap

Hypocrisy poem. After the big success of Jenean Gilstrap’s poem “Southern Baptist Salvation“, a poem about human hypocrisy, YM has decided to publish “the sins of sinnin’ the bishop and the queen”. Enjoy it! She is simply the best.

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin

the sins of sinnin’

the bishop and the queen

they don’t know

no, don’t nobody know

don’t nobody know where she live

an’ what they wouldn’t give

to know where she live

but all they know is what they see

what they wanna see

what i let ‘em see

an’ that ain’t much

what i let ‘em see

cause they don’t know

that place she live

she live with me there

she live with me here

in that place

that secret place

deep down inside

that place that don’t wear no purty face

not all the time it don’t

no, it don’t

cause it’s filled with all that sin

sin so full’a sin ain’t no tellin’ where it’s been

sin so old it don’t know where it began

no, they don’t know what sin is till they been where i been

an’ they don’t know that they’s all kinds’a sin

yeah, they’s all kinds’a sin

they’s that sin that’s done with a thing called evil intent

you know tha’ kind

now, don’t say that’chu don’t

cause you do

you do too know that kinda sin

the kind where satan does his dirty dance

has you all in a trance

an’ the gods ain’t gonna give you no second chance

not another dance

that kinda sin

now i ain’t sayin’ that all ya’ll done it

sinned with evil intent

i’m just saying you KNOW it

but wait now

you there, mister, yeah, you


you screamin’ an’ hollerin’

that you ain’t nev’a done nothin’ like that

that you ain’t no jeffrey dohmer, you say

nothin’ like him!

you ain’t no hitler

why, you’re a god-fearin’ man, are you

but ain’t you that bishop in that hell-fire an’ brimstone church

where all them good christians go

to see what ever’body else is wearin’ on a sundey

where you go an’ pay somebody good money

to tell you ‘bout what a no-good sorry heathen you are

an’ tell you you’re gonna burn in hell, you sorry filth!

well, see, now, i can save you a lot’ta all that money

cause i know what kinda sorry filth you are

you’re that same fine-church bishop

that left yur little do-good christian wife

an’ yur perfect little born-a’gin kids

in yur perfect little christian home

an’ knocked on my door one fine day

you ‘member that day, christian bishop?

you ‘member that day you done knocked on my door

with yur little basket of all them goodies

all them sticky sweet little goodies for my babies

you ‘member them, don’cha? you should

you was wearin’ some of them sticky sweet little goodies

when you left my house

an’ you ‘member what you said to me

‘bout that basket of goodies for my little babies

how all i had’ta do was give you some’a my own “sweet stuff”

an’ my babies could have all them goodies

yeah, some’a my sweet stuff swapped for food for my babies

you ‘member now, bishop

i bet’cha do

now you do

but i bet you nev’‘a even thought of it at all since then


no, i know you didn’t

an’ i bet you didn’t never even worry ‘bout bein’ found out

did’ja, bishop

cause who was gonna b’lieve me anyway

after all you were that do-gooder god-fearin’ bishop

in that big ‘ole cathedral the size of mt rainer

an’ me

well, now, i weren’t nobody at all

not to you

or none’a them other do-gooders

an’ none’a this matters now does it

not to you

but, see, yu’re one’a them

yes, you are

one’a them sinners

them with all that evil intent

one’a the worst of ‘em

sinners with evil intent

an’ you can’t go denyin’ what you done that day

cause jest lik’a bad dream, here i am, right in yur face

but what! what! you didn’t hurt nobody!

you didn’t kill nobody!

well, now, see, that’s just wha’chu think!

cause, just like sinnin’ they’s all kinds’a dyin’

an’ all kinds’a hurt, mister bishop!

they didn’t teach’chu that in yur fancy church school

an’ that day, you done both of’em

hurtin’ an’ killin’

yeah, you heard me

you done’em both that day


you an’ yur dastardly deed

yeah, you done’em both

when you slithered up behind me that day

you done’em both when you defiled my body

you done’em both when you pulled yur venomous weapon

all tucked away under that church cloak of self-rightousness

yeah, you done’em both, bishop

you done’em both

you attempted the murder of my soul

of my spirit of my me

an’ you killed a part of me

yeah, you did

you killed

a part’a my heart

that part’a my heart

that had believed in good

in bein’ good to others

you hurt me in ways i ain’t nev’a been hurt before

an’ i ain’t been hurt since

you dishonored the souls of my precious babies

when you committed yur wanton act upon their momma

an’ you attempted the massacre of my babies

my innocent babies my hungry babies

when you attached the nourishment of their physical bodies

to this heinous act against they momma

but yur worst deed, bishop

tha’ very worst deed of yurs

tha’chu committed that day

that fine day

was the committin’ of all that sin in the presence of my babies

wha’chu done to me was one thang

but wha’chu done to my little ones

now that’s somethin’ else

an’ for that

well, now for that, bishop, the’y ain’t enough fire in all’a hell to punish you

no, sir – the’y jus’ ain’t enough fire in hell

now, don’t git me wrong! no, sir!

i’m not sayin’ that i’m any different than you

any better – no, sir – i’m not

cause in one split second of yur dirty act

in one split second

i myself was right there with you

right there on the brink’a that dark abyss

starin’ that evil monster right square in the eye

you see, in that moment of time stood still

so did my heart

my kind an’ gentle heart

an’ that other heart’a mine took over

it began to beat to such ancient drums

as to scare even me

it beat so loud i scarce could hear you scream

an’ holler an’ curse when i bit into yur scrawny flesh

like a starvin’ lioness gnashin’ her teeth into its prey

blood turnin’ yur lily white skin crimson

as the sinful act you were committin’

yeah, i was right there alright

right there on the abyss of sin

that kind’a sin i been talkin’ ‘bout, bishop

sin with evil intent

cause in that split second on the abyss

part’a me wanted

even prayed for

yur life to end

i mean, to END

for yur own heart to stop it’s race against time

for all time

yeah, i wanted to defile yo’r flesh alright

with a speedin’ silver bullet of my own righteousness

i wanted the walls’a yur gold an’ marble cathedral to collapse ‘round you

the walls of hell fire an’ brimstone to fall down upon you

to rise up under you

extinguishin’ for all time the venom of yur satan’s serpent

an’ yo’r dark evil heart

so, there you have it, bishop

my own little story of that ‘ole thang called sin

you know tha’ kind now, don’cha?

tha’ kind committed with all’a that evil intent

now, they ain’t no need for you to be sittin’ round here listenin’

to me rave an’ rant no more

you go on an’ git up outta here

cause you know that other one that live here with me

here in tha’ heart of me

deep down inside the me’a me

well, now, see, she ain’t so nice as me

an’ she might jest step right up’n’out

an’ blow yo’r sweet ass ta’ kingdom come

cause she ain’t nice as me

an’ she ain’t gonna take yo’r shit no more

no, she ain’t, bishop

no, she ain’t

‘sides, she’s tha’ queen

an’ you

well, you j’st the bishop

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin

See also Jenean Gilstrap blog

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin. Gossip People

Hypocrisy poem. The Sins of Sinnin. Gossip People

Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem. Hypocrisy poem.

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Jenean C Gilstrap

Since childhood, Ms. Gilstrap has had a love of words-of writing and other arts. An individualist, she chooses not to follow any pre-conceived pattern for the outlay of these words – rather, she allows them the freedom to forge their own path as they make their way from her heart to pen to paper. Her art work involves both photography and mixed media on large canvasses. She is a weekly featured poet in Yareah Magazine where her works have appeared for more than a year. Her piece The Granite God was the winning poem in Painted Bride Quarterly Sidebar #12 [2012]. Her work has been featured in performance poetry theatrical productions in Louisiana and her short story, Retribution, published in the Helicon Literary Magazine there. She and her gypsywomanworld blog are included as character/story elements in Ghost Key, the fictional work of award-winning author Trish MacGregor. Her first volume of poetry [2013], words unspoken, is available in both paperback and on kindle at amazon. She currently divides her time between her home in Louisiana and the east coast as she completes her second volume of poetry to be published in 2013.

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